


The Hype of the Enigma

by zialless



Series: The Hype of the Enigma [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Anal, Angst, Blow Jobs, Chaptered, Characters outside Fandom, Fanfic, Fights, Fingerfucking, Fucked up minds, Lots of fights, M/M, Makeup, Maybe - Freeform, Minor Drug Use, Self-Blame, Sex, Smut, There's a lot of makeups, They fuck like 4 times, They fuck ok, This isn't some goddamn fairytale shit, made up characters - Freeform, tried to make it realistic as possible
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zialless/pseuds/zialless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm not a Saint, but I'm sure I'm not the Devil himself. Then, there's him who can and at the same time, cannot be with his tendency to be so abstruse. With his lucid temptations, and like any other person, you're supposed to stray from it. Sometimes, you just can't avoid temptations and you're stuck to deal with them until the end. They may be good or bad, little bit of both you gotta experience yourself to see the end results. But there's something called choices which only you-yourself, can make. This is me making mines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - The Start

**Author's Note:**

> I've worked about nine months on this fanfic with some people who I've asked to add some ideas to keep it going. I share the credit with them, if I get any... hehe. Plus they pushed me to publish because I don't really stay on one fanfic and continue to write until 30 chapters so yeah, hello. Hope you like it, please don't bash me- I can take some what of a critique but to say it sucks and it's shit, I can't (even though I know I suck already, please don't tell me)
> 
> Disclaimer: This is not real, it's fiction. The school system might be messed up because I really don't know anything about UK's school system and I did do some research on it but I didn't like it so I made my own school system really, lmfao. Events of this story never happened and again is fictitious.

This class may be fundamental for me to graduate but I can’t take it anymore. I need to leave. English is my best subject but with a teacher who looks for ways to fuck you over in any way of not succeeding is another thing. I’ve written many reports consisting the proper writing apparatus getting to the point quickly and proving it with validated facts like a good writer should. Only she doesn’t believe it to be quite as well-written as I think of my work to be—receiving a below average %58 on a properly written essay on Macbeth’s greed: before and after being crowned king. It’s a possibility I may have rushed it since I wrote it before two in the morning but I assure myself it’s not written that badly. I’m not that much of an idiot.

And even on several oral-communicative assignments, I’ve ‘fucked’ up on that. After several attempts into questioning her as to why those are my given marks; I gave up.

“Niall,” Sean hisses quietly my name during a work period.

“What?” I work attentively with my eyes not peering off my notes trying to have my mind not breaking the train of thought. Everything came smoothly, words poured out confidently until I heard Sean speak again.

“Extra pen?” He asks.

“C’mon,” I grumble about while I dig into my pockets for an extra pen. I throw it harsh in his way but it hits against Ms. McKnight’s ass while assisting a student.

Suddenly, Sean’s eyes widen and his jaw drops with his mouth opening, ready to laugh boisterously like he usually does when I get in trouble. But among the other students, I wasn’t finding this as a joke. I didn’t mean it but her intensive stare shows me that I have no way in defending myself without her assuming otherwise.

“Mr. Horan!” Her voice rises against me. “That kind of act will not be tolerated at this school!”

“I meant to give it to Sean,” I mumble. I don’t exactly have the best aim—but try telling her that.

“Send yourself right to the office.” She bellows, turning all red.

“Fuck man,” I tell myself.

“Excuse me?” She glares while exclaiming. “Do you honestly believe you’d get anywhere talking to your teacher like that? Have some dignity, your mother did not raise you to become like this, did she? I’m afraid not, I’m going to have to assume. Leave my class and find a way to explain to the headmaster about your ill-lead behaviour.”

Never have I ever seen anyone yell so loud that her pupils are dilated so it looks even more frightening with the blackness of her pupil overtaking the green vivid eyes she usually has and the raising in her voice was booming everywhere. Even the students behind her had their eyes widened with their jaw dropped all the way. Even Sean’s face was ever so confused and worried. The whole room was silent you can hear a pin drop from the hallway.

And without any attempt in fighting back, I take myself to the headmaster’s office where they made me wait until second period for her to come by and assess the problem altogether. That’s a whole hour just waiting for something I’m not even anticipating for.

“He’s done explicitly poorly on any given tasks and assignments, only allowing me to assume those are his motives for this kind of behaviour.” She states.

“Is this true?” the headmaster asks me.

“No!” I protest. “I never had any motive to begin with involving harassment against her. She’s a fucking teacher!”

“Now, we don’t take kindly on the usage of those words Mr. Horan, please refrain from using any kind of foul language.”

“Headmaster,” She says, “I’m not going to tolerate this student’s mindless behaviour in my class. He’s violated me in many several ways, I won’t have it go unpunished.”

“Sir, you’re going to believe her word over mine? I never intended to violate her, it was an honest accident. Ask anyone in class!”

“Settle down,” He says. “Until further investigation, Mr. Horan, you’re confined into the library for three days during class hours for inappropriate behaviour against a teacher.”

“But I haven’t done anything!”

“Settle down, I said! No more arguments or it’ll count as an expulsion. This is only a minor level of punishment and will not be included into your records, unless it’s validated that you have actually done so on purpose.”

Without any more protests, I leave the office to go outside to clear my head. All in all, even being confined to the library as punishment isn’t anything better than to be punished for something so false. Violated? Sure, I threw a pen at her arse but it was in way because of her stupid marking scheme against me. Even the headmaster fell for it and shows me how stupid this school is for the first time.

I leave myself out of problems because most of the time, it all results to going into the office. I’m not one to even catch myself in the middle of one, and neither am I thought of as someone to cause problems. Barely anyone here knows my name, unless you’ve been in at least one of my classes for the four years I’ve been attending this dumb boarding school in London filled with shallow, dumb-fucks who find pleasure and entertainment from being an asshole. Including teachers themselves. Soon to being five years since grade 8 or maybe not, if she decides not to pass me in English.

I move between the trees in these woods that sets itself as the border for the school where people often hide out. For me, it’s my only escape from people who aggravate me from being so belligerent. And as spring begins, the leaves are just beginning to grow and I usually use the foliage and thickness of the woods to hide myself but with my white uniform top and leafless trees, you can clearly point on there’s someone in the woods where someone shouldn’t even be at.

With my head down focusing on my shoes, I couldn’t help but smell that disgusting smell similar to skunk’s spray. Before even lifting my head to figuring out if it’s weed or actually a skunk, I hit my head against, not a tree but a soft surface that smells of cool aftershave and cigarettes with now coexisting with the smell of weed coming from the joint he’s holding. And it’s certainly not someone I’d want to confront alone and now—not ever.

Many rumours coincide with one another that lead to Zayn Malik. Notoriously known for being fights and his aggravated behaviour that no one would often want to ever end up facing him in a stand-off of some sort whether good or bad—unless you’re a girl and it’s highly unlikely nothing bad would happened. Just sex with him, I guess. But I never believe them, half of them sound like a Hollywood film adaptation. Intimidation flows out of him no doubt that my throat begins to tighten up with my teeth clinching. His eyes peering at me from the side of his shoulder with an expression of irritation.

“You should keep an eye on where you’re going,” He says, brushing his shoulder away, pacing around after.

“S-sorry,” I straighten my shirt out.

“You’re name’s Niall right?” He looks back with his hands casually in his pockets and suddenly I can feel my face and ears turning red just being here for less than five minutes.

“How do you—“ I ask him dumbfound.

“News travels fast when you throw pens at teachers’ asses and tell them to fuck themselves.” He gives me a sly smile.

“I never meant to,” I tell him. “And the last part’s not true.”

“It’s alright, I never took you in as the type to do something like that anyways,”

“What do you mean, you—“ I exasperate.

“Whoa!” He chuckles lowly, “are you going to throw a pen at my ass now and tell me to fuck myself?”

He doesn’t even know me.

“Fuck,” I hiss frustratingly while he laughs again. I make my way to leave but he pulls me back to stay and suddenly I can hear my head pounding. Let me leave already.

“So, what’s the penalty?” He makes himself comfortable on a leaned broken tree finding it all amusing about something I don’t think of it being funny.

“Suspension...” I say cautiously, “technically being stuck in the library during class hours.”

“That’s not bad, for you anyways. Believe me.” He says while I shrug at him then the talking eventually died down between the two of us.

My eyes wandered away from Zayn who I saw from the corner of my eyes play with his joint then I suddenly look at the chained door I've never noticed until now. Hesitantly, I throw a lighter from my pocket that lands at his feet because it's the first time really I have ever felt sorry for him.

“Why are you throwing this at me?” He asks with a tone of annoyance as he bends down to pick it up then leans back onto the lean-down tree.

“I'm letting... You use it.” I tell him hesitantly.

“I never asked you for help.” He says sharply.

“Then give it back.” I furrow my eyebrows.

“Hmm,” he hums, examining the lighter. “You smoke?”

“No, it’s not mine.” I say in irritation. “I don’t smoke, I-I just have it.” Why do I even have a lighter?

His face lights up with curiosity then chuckles, “wouldn't take you for the type either.”

Quickly, his thumb ignites the lighter, lighting the joint in his hand and in my head I can hear myself shouting while on the outside, I quietly watch. 

He tosses the lighter to me, almost making me trip on my heel as I catch it while his chest expands as he takes in a large puff from the blunt.

He offers me his bluntand I watch it burn as I contemplate between the choices of still staying with him or leaving.

"I'm ok..." I back away from his hand. His expression is smug and disinterested that I'm anxious to ever leave such a place.

"Take a toke," he orders me firmly that my temples are pounding even harder.

"What the fuck is that?" I play with the joint between my thumb and index finger, examining what the effects of marijuana can do. Already just by the smell, my visions beginning to become slightly impaired.

"It’s when you inhale from the damn thing and hold it in,” he explains in annoyance.

"I don't-"

He sighs sharply, "breathe in, and then you quickly inhale again after and exhale; it's not that hard."

"What happens after? After I take some in?"

"Nothing much," he says as he nods for me to go ahead.

I take it near my mouth, letting a bit of space between my lips open for the roll to rest but my hand retracts from my mouth.

Then Zayn exasperates and my eyes look up to him to see his expression soft and light for the first time, "do you trust me?"

"No, not really. I-I just met you." My face twisted in confusion. 

"Do you want to trust me?" His left eyebrow rises while his face is so tense. I can feel his eyes piercing right at me, trying to pull the answer from me.

His question got me so off guard, my forefinger and thumb that held the blunt shivered and I almost dropped the spliff which Zayn took back to take a puff from again.

"Yes or no?" His lips closed tight, he let out a wisp of smoke out from the corner of his mouth.

"Of course not," I tell him, catching his attention. Shortly, he snorts with a grin on his face. "What? I said no,” I say to him again.

"I heard you," he nods slowly. "You're lying to me; do you know I don't like liars?"

"How can you even tell?"

"That doesn't matter," he comes close to me, leaving a few inches between our bodies. I don't have the nerve to move away—or I don't think I'd like to move at all. Then his thumb lowering my mouth open with his index finger gently caressing up my jaw line that I might be just over-thinking it before he places the spliff on my lip where he closes my mouth.

The nerve I was waiting for to move away finally came, and I turn my head away and walk past Zayn. It's not so easy to keep yourself collected when he's looking right at you with eyes that remind you of the peak of summer. He acts out the steps to me; inhale, inhale again and finally exhale.

I did it just the way he showed me to do that I can almost feel my lungs coming up out my mouth as I cough.

"Good," he nods his chin once to me and slowly paces around some more. Back and forth we passed it to each other until he wouldn’t take it and I’m the one in the end holding the near-finished spliff between my forefinger and thumb.

"Why are you making me do this?" I ask. My eyes were beginning to wince and everything became so vivid.

"You see, I don't want to talk to my friends, but I want to smoke and I can't alone but since you're here," he shrugs.

"Why can't you smoke this all yourself?"

"I'm not trying to fuck myself over. As much."

"So what happens now?" I ask.

"You get high? What else is there to it?” The corner of his lips stretches weakly. “Finish it," he hands it over and he sits himself back onto the broken tree.

As much as I don't want to, I do anyways. I can't say no because it doesn't exist in this case with Zayn. I feel it beginning to hit me as things start to get much more vivid than before and my eyes pushing itself to close while I try to keep them open.

"It hit you." He says.

"How can you tell?" I lift my eyebrows, trying to open my eyes even more as it already is.

"You don't feel it?" He snorts.

“Ohhh, I’m gonna get caught.” I mutter. “I’m not telling you.”

“Hello? Am I talking to myself?” He shakes my shoulders and I can even feel my brain pounding against my skull. It’s loose, I’m dead. I learned this in Biology, it should be attached! Oh my God. Why is it shaking?

"I’m dead!" I hiss under my breath, and quickly Zayn begins to laugh, without making any sounds. “What the hell is going on?” I groan, letting my eyes close as I start to walk.

"What the fuck's up with you?" He laughs again. “Where are you going?”

"’I’m gonna die." I extend the last word, pacing around while I pick up a broken branch. Whipping it back and forth just like those hunters in jungles slashing their machetes against the foliage.

"Shut up!" He groans loud.

I follow behind him after a few seconds he caught up and outpaced me which didn't seem to satisfy him that I’m dragging behind.

"Can you hurry the fuck up?" He sighs as he stops walking and turns back to me.

I speed up beside him, entering the school steps before the school itself. Class continued, with only 40 minutes left and Zayn suggested I don't wander around the halls in case I'm really fucked that I end up vomiting because apparently it happened to him and it's not as exciting being greened-out.

“I-I can’t go to class!” I say muffled with my hand covering my mouth. “Zayn, I can’t go.”

“Noisy,” he says to himself, eyes closed still walking straight. “It’s noisy.”

“But I need to go,” I wheeze. “I’m going to be marked absent and then expelled. Fuck!”

“Niall, Niall, Niall…” He repeats until I paid my remaining attention to him. “You’re not going to class. Don’t even think about it. Stupid.”

I asked him to stay with me, only because I've locked myself out my room with my roommate still in class. Since Zayn roomed with himself this year, it wouldn't be a problem. But I guess it is when he said no. And it's my turn not to take no for an answer. So making somewhat of a scene, I began to raise my voice into letting him let me stay but resulted him to cover my mouth with his hand that smells like weed still. He punched me in the gut and threatened that he'll punch my throat without holding his strength back. I stopped screaming but I wasn't intimidated by him anymore—at least not as much as before so I continued to complain and assert a yes from him. He broke down afterwards, and slapped me behind my head before we entered his room.

His room is simple yet it set off a vibe that he needs to organize. I guess in my eyes he needs to fix his room to find his belongings but to him, it already is and he doesn't need to.

"I'm going to tell you right now, I still don't trust you." I trace the cracked imprint on his wooden study desk as I lounge on his spinning chair.

"You can say things like this all you want Niall, but I can tell if you're lying." He pulls his shirt off from his neck showing his bare toned skin before he quickly slides himself under his comforter. "And you are."

I rest my head on my forearm, my eyes forcing itself to close and the last thing I see before falling asleep is him watching the ceiling while admiring his tattoos.

And I never knew that was the last time I'd ever speak to him ever again.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of year again. But it'll be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if you guys even like this series but I will just keep going because I don't feel good about stopping midway through a fanfic. Sorry for it being so short. I normally don't write 1k.. I thought it was longer when I wrote in my IPod so.. I apologize. It'll get longer throughout the story so don't shout or say bad things to me lmfao. Chapter 1, not 2. Did a prologue and it's now calling itself chapter 1...

My mom burst inside my room the morning, throwing a bag on the end of my bed just waking me up three hours after I finally fell asleep.

The whole night I spent trying to get over things I should’ve from the start. I don’t think fondly of my dad now that he’s gone and moved to a place where my mom and I don’t know. By now, we both know he’s moved on so quickly, not realizing it’s his partly—no, all of his fucking fault for fucking things up between the three of us. It was all good between us but if he didn’t think with his dick instead of his head we wouldn’t be where we’re all are today.

But I guess I can thank him for pulling that shit with my mom five years ago. I don’t think I’d forgive myself for my mom staying with a dick until the end.

I groan hoarsely when I felt my backpack straps rubbing against my feet. “It’s exactly 9 in the morning! _Why_?”

“It’s noon!” She scoffs and shakes my shoulder.

“Come on!” I argue while I deepen my buried face in my pillow between my neck and right shoulder. “I have one more day... Let me sleep in.”

“No you don’t! We were supposed to be gone an hour ago to reach the flight to London and the next flight is in 3 hours... Get up and pack.” She went on until I ripped the blanket off me and stormed to my closet to pull whatever I can to make her shut up. Why didn't she wake me then or even say anything about getting up?

Quickly, she too stormed out my room. I knew she was mad at me for acting the way I did towards her being stressed and all but didn’t she realize I wasn’t in the mood to be fucking around? With only three hours of sleep you’d think I’d be fucking Sleeping Beauty... Though I continued packing the rest of my clothes since I already began. If I stopped now, I wouldn’t even continue it later on.

Sometimes that’s all me and my mom ever do. Argue day and night about me not doing anything or her not spending enough time with me; if we're not avoiding each other. Behind the tough shit I try to pull with everyone and especially her, I miss her and I rarely miss anyone if you can say that. I remember when she used to actually smile and it’d just make me content myself knowing my mom’s happy but now it’s all gone. We’re both miserable and I guess we can cut each other some slack.

The ride to the airport was almost the worst thing I can end up being at. Even though I can feel my eyes getting heavier and heavier. I can see the pressure and stress taking over my mother. Paler than ever, her hands grips the wheel with the knuckles resembling the colour of snow. Going above the speed limit, I’m actually worried I won’t make it to the airport safely until I came over my pride to actually do something I hate doing.

“Mom,” I call her out and she gives me no response whatsoever.

“Mom!” I hiss after, “ _fuck_.” Even swearing won’t get her to turn to me.

She’s having her moment where she shuts out everything around but she can’t be doing it right now or ever again. As much as I want her to leave me alone, she can’t.

I got to my school no later than 6 in the evening after flying out. Couldn't even apologize to my own mom without her pushing me to go to my terminal because she was afraid I'd be late again. Without even guessing it, I knew I was the last one to arrive to school. I got a few stares from the teachers walking about in the hallway meeting students. All I could actually do is nod my head at them smugly and lug my suitcases behind me going straight to administration to register.

The only thing I’m worried about is who I’m actually paired with as a roommate. Last year I got stuck with a girl for the first two days until they switched her out and replaced her with some sophomore who thought it was cool to sneak in a pet snake. The next few days it went missing and I found it inside my underwear drawer. Embarrassing as it is, I didn’t change my boxers until lunch when it left to go into his bed. Even then, I was having second thoughts of changing my boxers until that shit was gone for good.

But with the girl who stayed in my room, I have nothing to complain about. She shouldn’t even have to leave, we didn’t do anything. Except the last night we spent together fucking around. Not literally speaking anyways.

Predominantly, this school isn’t the best when it comes to pairing you with roommates. I just hope they upgraded from last year. I'm not spending my last year with another person who's got a thing for snakes or fetish for feet. I'm having none of it.

Yet they showed me how wrong I was. They assigned me a part of the hall without anyone around the room who actually roomed there. Last year only a few of the boys stayed in that part of the dorm while everyone else seven doors down had something going on there each Friday which I was apart of, except this year when I’m isolated along with a few or maybe just myself. I don't know why they leave a huge gap between other rooms. There's a lot mysteries here that I haven't even figured out myself and it's been five years since I've been coming here.

With two different keys, I slide the first one in and turned without any success but even before I can pull it back out, the one person I’m conflicted whether having him as a roommate is congenial of me or ill-suited or to even associate with opens the door for me. Faster than lightning can strike the floor my eyes shot straight up at him while he looked at mines, both of us didn’t expect neither of us would be sleeping in the same room throughout the whole year. He wasn't new, I wasn't either. But it's nerve racking to be in a room with someone you've known the name about for four years, see them wander around the school so many times, even making eye contact with them to only break that moment through nervousness and yet only talk to them once.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, haven't updated. Didn't think people would be interested to read but my friend Inayah told me to so here I am, doing it. She's also my beta so thank her. Also, I'll frequently post now. The chapter titling is a bit confusing because I started off with a Prologue, so THIS IS CHAPTER 2 -- Not 3

It's weird to mention his name out loud—let alone think it.

Zayn’s face is deadpan but not disappointed, only curious when I squeeze myself between the doorway and his body. Passing by him, I can smell something strong. But before I can even ask if it’s him who smells like cigarettes or if I’m just smelling things, he breaks the silence.

“Nice cologne,” he snorts softly facing away from my direction when I turn to look at him.

“I’m not wearing any,” I blink unsurely.

He grins at me while I look at him weirdly. “Mhm, that’s what I thought, because you smell a lot like weed.”

“I—I don’t know—“

“Lying,” he throws himself on the bed opposite from mine and continues, "again?"

I ask myself what he meant by _again_ but I realize he was talking about the first time we officially met. “I’m not.” I tell him firmly.

“Cute,” He smiles at me while resting his chin on a fist. "Keep lying some more."

I groan abruptly but all he does is laugh.

“Go on...” he insists but then pauses, “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

I shakily exhale the long breath I've held in since I entered the room. Zayn wasn't taking any pressure off me since I first saw him so many months ago. Sure, I was fine for that one short moment we were in the woods, but things change.  
“It’s Niall," I tell him. You'd think he'd remember my name just like I did his.

He turns on his other side, showing his back to me, shirt outlining his back muscles, “Ok then, _Niall_ , I hope I won’t be any trouble.” He says to me with an implication of teasing.

I scoff at him and shake my head. “Huh, I’m sure you won’t be.” I say. Actually, I don't know if he will be. It's not like I've hung out with him before.

_Oh wait..._

Zayn and I skip out on dinner—at least I forgot we were supposed to go. How does someone skip dinner at all? I don’t mind that I did, I didn't feel like eating, and I had to unload a lot of my stuff which took the whole evening ‘till midnight. After being constantly distracted by the things around the room. Fancy book cases, a couch that actually fit in the room—along with two separate beds. It really wasn't that much, but it was better than sleeping in a room with a snake.

Zayn fell asleep first, and I'm still unpacking with only four more hours until I officially begin my classes.

It's been three weeks since I'd gotten proper sleep, and I was starting to think that maybe I'm an insomniac.

So many things trouble me that I can’t concentrate on anything but looking for an answer as to why I am who I am. I can point fingers at my dad, my mom, my teacher who suspended me on no solid account of rule breaking, and even Zayn, who everyone’s been dying to get his attention. All of them don’t connect to each other and yet, they’re the ones I know I'm going to end up pointing fingers at.

I'll admit, my head’s been wrapped around the idea of rooming with Zayn. Already, I’m contemplating if I should still stay with the guy or ask for another roommate. Funny thing is, I’ll most likely to be put in a room with someone who’s got problems that’ll affect the whole dormitory. To even prove it, I'm roomed with Zayn, aren't I? It’s okay if I’m stuck with this guy, he doesn't seem all that bad. He’s not as bad as everyone thinks of him to be. He could just be misjudged or miscomprehended. He's liked for the wrong reasons he can’t help himself with. And I’m not going to leave him just because of something so little. Besides, I’m not taking the risk of going back with the snake boy.

_BAM!_

The door slams shut as loud as dropping a brick against a wooden, hollow floor. My eyes opened quicker than you can count the seconds and they shoot straight up to Zayn who’s greeting two of his friends who look like they're wearing sleeping clothes. Just when I was in midway of going back to sleep from accidentally waking up earlier—this happens.

What time is it exactly?

5:24 in the morning to be exact.

Wide eyed with my teeth gritting, I glare at Zayn who finally realized he’s got a roommate who was trying to go back to sleep still after an hour.

“Fuck,” he let out an abrupt chuckle, thinking it’s hilarious.

“ _You’ve_ got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” I hiss while my fingers rub the inside corner of my eyes as my arm is propping me up.

“Who’s the kid?" One of the boys with a mop of either natural or messy curls says.

“Kid?” I scoff, “I’m a fucking senior, you dick.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t get hasty,” he put out his palm trying to provoke me. “Sorry man, we didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Can you read time or are you dumb?” I rip the blanket off me to stand. “You literally got three fucking hours until classes start. What are you going to do for three fucking hours?”

Zayn intervenes, “It’s called wake and bake. I thought you've done it."

“No because I'm not waking up just to smoke!” My voice starts to rise and they begin to shush me.

“Just shut up. You're already awake.” Zayn snorts and grins at me. “Might as well come with us,”

“No you fuck,” I quickly squeeze my eyes shut to regain a proper idea of what’s going on right now. “I’m going back to sleep.”

“Life of the party, you are.” The other guy finally started to speak. And something about him made me want to shut up because it looks like if I piss him in any way, he’d return the favour ten times worse.

“Yeah—No, I want to sleep. So leave me the fuck alone, why are you even trying to get me to come along with you guys?” I say to them. “You don’t even know me.”

“I promise you,” Zayn’s arm went around my shoulders, his fingers caressing my bare skin. I hate when people went touchy on me. “You’ll be fine after. You won’t even be mad by the time we’re done.”

Retentively, I agreed to going with them to only have them leave me alone after we’re all done. Looks like I just learned something on the first day of school and it’s not even relevant to any classes. It’s that my roommate doesn’t care whether you’re sleeping or not, he’ll do whatever the fuck he wants.

I zip up my purple sweater and slide my legs through a pair of grey sweats because I’m not going out in my briefs in the cold just to smoke. Who would even do that? Why am I asking stupid questions.

I learn the curly hair bitch is named Harry and the other one with him is Louis. Apparently, both of them have something going on everyone wants to be in but it’s just between the two. Even Zayn that doesn’t even know what the fuck they’re up to.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I scoff. I’m not in the mood to talk but I just have to say something.

“What?” Zayn asks.

“They like each other,” I say.

“I don’t think so,” Zayn shakes his head. "Both straight."

“Whatever," I mutter.

“Why are you even bugging about this?” Zayn runs his hands into his hair with an annoyed expression.

“I'm not!" I snap at Zayn who's eyes narrow at me. I turn back to Louis and Harry, who didn't seem to hear our remarks.. “Can we just hurry up then?”

I feel Zayn’s curious but concerned eyes looking at me but I don’t acknowledge them. As much as I don’t want to bother people with their personal affairs, people as ignorant as Zayn bother me the most. But I shouldn’t be saying about them knowing all of them less than twenty-four hours.

I throw myself on my bed once we arrive back from the school rooftop. Although, I find it highly risky spending your time about the school roof smoking while anyone can just go there. I even told Zayn and his two other friends to go somewhere confined and secretive but disagreed.

“Like you said, it's 3 hours before class. Who would be awake?” Zayn tells me, speaking on behalf of everyone while I retaliated.

“Fuck you guys.”

They laugh and begin their day by lighting up a bud. I didn't bring mine along with me, but Zayn was nice enough to offer me a gram, even if I wanted to pass the opportunity.

“Take it.” He says with his in his mouth already as he tried handing mine.

“I'm really fine,” I shake my head at him. I wasn't even angry anymore at that time but mostly tired. Yet something possessed Zayn not to let it go.

“Open your mouth a bit,” he tells me in a curious tone.

“Why?”

“Stop asking questions and do it,”

“Erm,” I peep out, but seconds later my jaw drops a bit,leaving a small opening because there was no way I was trying to anger anyone here, especially Zayn.

I avoid eye contact with him by looking at the sky trying not to give him any idea that I'm slightly frightened by him yet at the last second I noticed he quickly placed the roll on my lips and before I can do anything, he pushes my jaw back up to close my mouth and lit up the end.

“Hey--” I mumble indistinctly while I already started to inhale. I look at him in annoyance while he walks away and looks back at me with his eyebrow up with a sly grin.

How familiar.

There's a lot about him that's so profound that I'm too nervous to even find out more about him.

Hell, why am I doing this to myself?

While I lie on my bed with my eyes half-closed and sight a bit dazy, Zayn begins to change out his old clothes and into the school uniform.

“You won't watch me while I change, will you?” He laughs, lacing it with a bit of wheezing while he pulls the shirt from the bottom to his neck and over his head.

“What the fuck, Zayn?” My head turns up and I squint at him, not even being able to see him. I look at him as if he's the stupidest person I've met. He might be.

"Simple joke.” He says jokingly as his eyes roll at me. I close my eyes for a few second to gain some peace and by the time I manage to finally open my eyes—he's dressed and smoking in the room.

I lift myself up with most of my strength, “fuck, I don't want it smelling in here!”

“Get used to it,” he lets out a haze of smoke leave the corner of his lips while he straightens his shirt out and began to button it up. He puts out his cigarette on the ash tray he must've brought himself, takes the other half he didn't smoke and leaves the room before I can even come up what to say to him.

I slide the window open, letting the intoxicated air out and fresh air in but it's not making any difference to me. It still smells. Technically, I’m supposed to be tripping my ball sacks on a level of three because of the kush, but right now, I’m just tired.

Motionless with my stomach flat on the bed with my arms under my pillow.  
Out of the blue, a butterfly enters from the window and lands on my finger.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, trying to relax my finger down and the butterfly stays positioned.  
“Yo.” It says.

“What?” I exclaim as I retract my head away from it

“Talking butterfly, you haven’t seen one before?” It flutters its wings but stays on my finger still.

“Well no, it’s not possible at all,”

“Maybe because you’re high as fuck.”

“There’s a difference between hallucinations and being high, you stupid fuck.” I scowl at the thing.

“Hey we don’t have to be calling each other names now,” it laughs while I watch it in annoyance. “After all, _you’re_ the one talking to a fucking butterfly.”

“Alright!” I run my free hand through my hair, “what’s up?”

“Just free roaming,” it giggled and I just begin to laugh. “How’s school?”

“I don’t know man, it’s pretty good.”

“Except that Zayn kid?” It blurts out.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.” It finally flies off my finger but hovers around my hand.

“No, you said—“ I lift my body up.

“Zayn?”

“Yeah!” I exclaim.

“No I didn’t,”

“You just said it twice in the last thirty seconds!”

“Dude, wake the fuck up, no I didn’t.”

Wake the fuck up?

My body jolts right up while I kick my blanket off the bed.

9:30 my clock reads.

Shit!

If it wasn't for the bizarre dream, I would’ve been a lot later to class than I was. I change to my uniform and throw in some kind of textbook to fill the void of my bag. I think I already lost my timetable for this semester. Already, I’m slipping up right after promising myself I'd do better for my last year.

Quickly, I rush through the empty hallway with no sense of direction before stopping to avoid running into some kid.

“Fuck dude,” the words slip out my mouth.

“Sorry.” He says quietly.

I turn back, learning the familiar voice was my old roommate. Not the snake kid.

“Liam!” I greet him excitedly.

Liam’s the one thing that kept me grounded last year. If I wasn’t studying, he’d have me do it by bribing me with Liam coupons. Coupons that allowed me to actually do anything in the room without him giving me any shit. He’s easily able to talk to anyone which I somewhat like about him, but he’s got the tendency to piss everyone off too. He never allowed me to play any music last year without the coupons. We had a curfew at 11pm and if you’re late, you’re not getting back in. Hell, the rule only applies to me as I’d find myself still wandering out after 11. When he was in a good mood, he’d let you in.

“Oh,” he sighs nervously. “Hey Niall.”

“Why are you being a pussy right now,” I scoff. “I was your roommate, did you forget our good times or what?”

“No. We had fun—not in that way.” He shakes his head and puffed air out. “Although, I heard you’re with Zayn this year. How is that?”

“Weird actually...” I shrug. “Listen, let’s catch up over lunch?”

“Yeah, bring Sean along.” Liam added.

“I haven’t seen him.”

"Who knows what he's actually doing?"

The momentum with Liam had taken more of my than I expected. While I roam around the halls wondering what class I’m supposed to be at, somehow I find it unexpectedly.

“Mr. Horan!” Ms. McKnight, who was my English teacher last year that got me fucking suspended yells out her room. Faintly, I can hear the sound of her shoes come at the door becoming clear to my ears as she comes closer.

“Hey miss, you miss me? Get it?” I laugh to myself with my fingers in my pocket pinching my skin telling myself to shut the fuck up.

“I certainly do miss you,” she paused.

Really now?

“Not being late for my class. Get in here. Now” She continued.

Oh.

Slowly I start to walk, “it’s an honest mistake, I lost my timetable.”

“Well it’s a good thing I found you out here,” she waits until I get inside the classroom to shut the door. “Take a seat behind Sean.”

Sean? I laugh on the inside but give a sinister smolder look to Sean who knew how this class would go when I’m sitting behind him.

I stop at his desk, “Hello, Sean.” I offer him my hand. What a lad.

“Why Niall, I haven’t seen you in a while.” He gets up from his seat to give me a handshake.

“Boys! Please, not now.” Ms. McKnight puts down her book.

Quickly, I sit down as she continues her lesson about composing a story. It wasn’t worth listening to, it was basic knowledge if you’ve read books before. If you haven’t, you technically have a problem. Easy as pie, although not pi.

Fuck math.

It's only the first day and already she’s given an assignment due by the next month where you have to pick a book and explain the meaning behind the first persons narration as best as you can with descriptive and supporting details.

“Can I do The Godfather?” One kid asks.

Idiot.

“The assignment’s based on first person perspective so I advise you to actually get a book that’s not in third person,” she explains. It’s good that she did—better than my curse filled explanation might have been.

The kid opens his mouth but she cuts in quicker than I’ve seen anyone do, "By advise, I mean don’t. At all.”

Then he relaxes and so do I.

Since I missed the first hour of class, she makes me stay back which doesn't make any sense to me at all.

“What’s the point to this?” I sigh.

“This is for being late to my class, Niall.” It was the first time I’d ever heard her say my first name.

“Do you know what class you even have next?” She crosses her arms at me while she leaning Against her desk.

“Yeah,” I lie.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be late to my classes anymore if you don't like being held back.”

Out in the busy halls, there were so many unfamiliar faces and not enough familiar ones. Still, I know that even among all the new faces, I'd find the one I was hoping not to see.4

His eyes meet mine between the massive crowds of people walking to class and keeps his gaze on me longer than I’ve kept mine on him. Hesitantly, I look back his way and he’s beckoning at me to come over, which is also a good chance for me to ask if he’s seen my timetable.

“Hey,” he greets me calmly.

“You need something?” I ask.

“Need something?” His eyebrows furrow at me then he shakes his head, “I don’t need anything from you, Niall.”

“Oh,” I say, subtly disappointed. “Well you’re calling?”

“I found your timetable, I knew you’d need it so I brought it over.” He hands it to me.

Somehow he’s managed to lift my spirits up and I can feel my lips stretching but I limit it into grinning without showing any teeth, “Thanks. Where’d you find it?”

“It was under my clothes.” He shrugs.

“It really doesn’t matter where,” I say. "Go to class now, you’ll be late.”

“I am in class. Technically, so are you. I hope you don’t mind... I looked at your timetable.”

“Really?” I ignore the other half of what he said. I sound more excited than I should have because Zayn’s eyebrows rise into curiosity with a smile forming. I guess he’s happy that I’m excited for him to be in my class for the first time after three years. I won’t deny it but I’m also worrying if I’ll actually get anything done for photography class with him around, knowing just how he is on the first day of school.

The class is somewhat for leisure only. Not like I have much planned in my life but to fuck around and be happy as I can. Photography’s one of the things I'm least interested in, including film and directory. There’s no class involving directory, but if I want to take up directory and film, at least I need to have knowledge of acting so I took drama, film class, and photography.

My eyes stare off Zayn and wander to the almost-empty hallway. Still, the girls who’ve been talking about Zayn now have their eyes onto me. Quickly they flutter away and clear the hallways as soon as I have eye contact with one who’s older than she looks—physically.

Fuck this school.

Class beginning momentarily, we spend the first thirty minutes learning the basic rules of using a camera and the basic rules of the class such as running around class being prohibited especially most of these cameras costing more than half the shit I brought into the school.

Zayn sitting, two rows up front and three desks to the right from me, keeps his attention forward. Truthfully, being far away from him feels weird—even being in the same room. I'm not close to him as Louis and Harry are, so how am I in a position to feel as if we’re close? Then there’s my other contradicting feeling where I don’t because he’s a fucking asshole who loves to ruin his roommate’s sleep.

There was no other choice to even go anywhere. The desk diagonally from me that gave me an open view of Zayn was empty and I wish I could sit there but it can’t happen with assigned seats. Because I didn’t know anyone around—including Zayn, I felt weird being in the class. I mean, I can talk to people but it all depends the feeling they’re giving off. And the feeling I give off is probably the reason why no one talks to me.

Liam and Sean were an exception because I knew them the whole entire time during the year I spent with Liam and two years I’ve had Sean in four of my classes out of eight. We all knew each other, which was all the better so it made everything easier. With Zayn, it’s different. Like I said, he gives a weird vibe off I’m afraid to actually deal with, but I want to at the same time. Most of the times I’ve spoken with him, I’ve questioned why I’d say that to him, that he’ll think I’m as stupid as the rest of these people in the school. But I guess I’m doing good so far considering he hasn’t done anything so horrible to me.

I wonder why I even think about him so much now. Even during summer, I sometimes replay the memory of me and him smoking in the woods that first time I met him because it was something I'd finally done differently in my entire life. Reflecting back, I was as wild then as I am today, but without the influence of drugs to make me happier. It's obvious drugs aren’t something anyone should be doing—it’s a choice. And asking myself, why did I choose to do drugs? I know I can’t blame Zayn for that as much as I like to blame alot of things on him just by knowing him mentally. But I like to believe he’s the cause and effect in my life to how I got here in life—smoking and all.

Unbelievable. I find myself looking at him for the longest time. And just when I’m about to turn away, his head hesitantly turns back here and I quickly flutter my eyes up front. A few seconds his eyes stray here before he looks to the window.

“What are you looking at?” A girl with curly hair asks. Dani, the teacher called her. She was Guyanese. "Actually, who are you looking at?"

Did I actually stare so long that someone’s noticed? “You’re a curious little bird,” I whisper, my face scrunching up and head shaking sarcastically.

“No just an observant one,” she gives me a cute grin. “So...”

“Listen, I’m not interested to talk with anyone...” I mumble.

“Not a social butterfly are you?” She continues to bother me.

Butterfly. Really butterfly?

“No, sorry.” I shake my head.

I hear a high pitch scoff from her before she faces back towards the front.

The teacher's beginning to assign everyone to a camera, meaning this is everyone’s excuse to get up from their seat and to talk with their friends. I look over Zayn who’s still planted on his seat so I decide to stay until my name gets called.

Instantaneously, Dani stands in front of my desk, blocking my view of the teacher. Quickly, my head rises from cupped hands holding my chin so she doesn’t think I’m trying to look up her skirt.

“And...” I groan despondently.

“What?” She asks. “I haven’t said anything yet,”

“I know you will, and I know it’ll be something worth not wasting my time on.”

“Now you’re being a little rude lad.”

“No, I’m being a little honest lad.”

“Have you got any sisters?” She cheerfully asks.

"No, thank God.” I groan again.

Out of nowhere Zayn calls me. Saving me from the perky girl. “Niall,” he gestures his chin to the teacher then looks back down to his notebook.

“Thanks,” I try to sound as loud as possible to get his attention and all he does is give me a smile.

Hurriedly, he assigns me to a camera, trying to get everyone else one before the bell rings. Gave me the forms to sign if I lose or break the item assigned to me, I’m held responsible.

While I sign messily, Mr. Fredo tells me to try if it’s alright and to take a few snapshots to see if it’s a good camera.

I watch the whole room explode into a social convention, only Zayn sits alone—contently but alone at his desk with his notebook covered with various drawings I can’t make out. Being the only person to talk to without being annoyed by everyone else, hesitantly but fast I call, “Zayn.”

Quickly, Zayn’s brown eyes look up and I take that quick moment where he doesn’t know I’m taking a picture and press the button.

“Hey!” He shouts but not angrily, just in surprise and embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m checking if it’s fine if you don’t mind. I’ll delete it right now,”

“No, no. I don’t care—just could’ve asked first that’s all,” he says.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again.”

He shakes his head with a grin back to his notebook while I walk back to my desk. And again, Dani is waiting for me after speaking to those other people.

“So, what’s Zayn like?” she whispers close by my ear.

“Hey!” I retract me head away. “That’s personal, ask him yourself.”

“I would, but...”

“You’re afraid?” I scoff.

“Oh no, it’s just there are rumours—“

“For God sakes,” I sigh in agony, taking my bag off the floor to leave the class before five minutes until the bell rings.

I enter the room, shutting the door hard enough so that I shake the table and the lamp. I stop momentarily before going to my bed to shut the window. The room makes me feels like I'm living by the sea in Ireland—all windy and misty. Again I’m back to my thinking position but this time, in frustration. I shout in my pillow before I throw it to the door where I almost hit Zayn who’s just coming in.

“Whoa!” He stops just in time where the pillow lands right at his feet.

“How come you left?” I try to sound calm as I can. Only ending up sounding like a cheesy asshole in an infomercial.

“After you left, the teacher just let everyone go.” He shrugs. “What happened to you? You looked like you were about to turn green there.”

Trying hard to put on the straight-face, I lie him, “Nothing, I just remembered to call my mom at this time since it’s her lunch break at work." Who remembers that?

“Did you call already because I can leave—“

“Ya, I called already. Don’t worry.”

Quietly Zayn settles on his bed, picking out from his pocket a new cigarette which I sigh at. He ignores me and lights it up anyway with bad timing for me, because I just closed the window. I won’t even bother telling him to ash it out right now, it’d be no use.

“Hey, unless later on you’re not being a stubborn child like this morning, we’re gonna go up and do it again right now.

“Louis and Harry?” I reply.

He shrugs, “Yep and Tyler but who gives a fuck about him?”

Who the hell is Tyler?

“Sorry, I’ve got plans with Liam and Sean.”

“Alright.” He says sharply with a tone of anger.

“What?” I exclaim curiously and irritatingly. “What’s wrong?”

It’s not Zayn’s fault for me acting this way. It’s something people say about each other that do. The way people don’t give each other a chance, the way they judge one another based on by the number of concocted rumours about that person. Neither being true, who honestly fucking cares? Everyone’s just looking for a reason to get on each other’s nerves for pleasure and it’s not a pretty sight to see and experience yourself in.

Being surprised, Zayn shakes his head, “N-Nothing! I just can’t find my hat.” He says in frustration.

I let out a sharp sigh, “I’ve never even seen a hat here that’s not mine. You can borrow one of mine though, not a big deal. I’ve got several,” I throw my favourite one at him and he catches it.

“Toronto Blue Jays?” He looks at the stitching of the blue bird.

“Yeah, just do me a favour and try not to dirty it.”

“I won’t,” he slides it over his raven black hair, showing his fringes that settle above his eyes. This was a whole physical sight of Zayn to me. Usually wandering around the school with his famous style where he slicks it up. And today, he’s combed his fingers through his hair to put it down flat, totally destroying his hair that looked like he’d spend a whole hour on to put a fifty dollar hat on which means nothing to him and somewhat a lot to me.

I peek at him while he slides his broad arms in a maroon sweater over his uniform that you can see his toned muscles through. Quickly, my eyes look away as I notice his head tilts down with his eyes looking back while he fixes his hood. And I swear he knows I was looking at him when I see the corner of his mouth stretch. Not all the way but, in a way where he’s gotten some self-satisfaction that my eyes are straying on him and not anyone else like this before.

He didn’t say anything afterwards. He just casually left the room as if nothing happened.

Yet, what is so different about him that’s got half the school avoiding him and the other which are mostly girls and suck-ups who want the—I’m guessing, ‘special treatment’ Zayn shows towards his friends? He’s nothing more like the rest of us in my eyes


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a regular day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the shortness of the story... thought it was longer haha. Trying to update more frequently. Actually chapter 3, don't follow the link of chapters, lol

Sean sits across from me, eyeing my lunch. It wasn't my fault that he chose to get something he wouldn't eat.

“I can’t, Niall. Give me your lunch," he whines.

“Sean get your filthy fingers off,” I elbow his hand away.

“Pity me for your sake,” he speaks about himself. “I told myself I’d like peppers if I ate them more, but I still hate them! I will never get peppers again!"

“Get your lazy ass up and get yourself lunch. You’re not taking any of mine.”

He glares at me then sighs. He tries to choking down the green peppers but doesn't work. “Stupid cunt, why do I even bother spending my free time with you guys?”

“What do you mean, you guys? Liam’s not even here yet.”

“Thanks Captain Obvious,” he scoffs. “While you’re being a dick, I’m going to get a sandwich.” He shudders.

“I thought I was a cunt.” I laugh while he throws his middle finger up at me before heading to the long line.

Normally, Liam’s pretty good.when it comes to making plans. He’s usually the first one to arrive, the only one to complain about everyone else being late. Right now, he’s being the polar opposite.

And I haven’t seen any sign of Zayn either. Probably having lunch on the rooftop with his friends. They're always up there smoking. A part of me is reflecting whether I should’ve joined them in the first place, but then again, I’m not into having any alone time with Zayn and his friends. Who knows what they’d plan for me to do?

Exaggeration. I am completely exaggerating to myself right now. Why do I care?

Sean comes back moments later without anything. Pitifully, I give him the rest of my lunch, considering I’m not as hungry as I was before. With all the weed I’ve been smoking, you’d think I’m always up for the munchies. Odd enough, I’m not craving anything.

“You made me go all the way up there to come back here with you giving up your lunch?” Sean scoffs.

“Lad,” I slowly turn to him. “Do I have to kill you for you to become appreciative about the things I fucking do for you?”

“Alright, alright.” He sighs while he beginning to start on the other half of my lunch.

I hurry Sean to get him finish his lunch faster. He eats slowly and I swear it's just to piss me off because he knows I’m horribly impatient.

The day’s been too long and the least I can do is to go outside and not trap myself inside for the next half an hour until classes start again. The school was a mixture of scents—mango, hibiscus, orange, pot, and something sourel, like aged cheese. I can feel my head pounding against my skull and with the loud echoing of students in the dining hall screaming, shouting, and talking. I need to get outside immediately and Sean’s not making it happen for me. By now, I’d have devoured my lunch.

I grow more and more impatient, and uncomfortable as I see a group of people staring at me . Sean finally finishes the sandwiches and I sigh in relief.

“Thank you, you’re finally finished!” I cheer before he can even ask me what’s wrong.

While shrugging he says, “I suppose, still—where’s Liam?” His eyes peek over my shoulder and everywhere else around the dining hall.

“He might be talking to the school committee, who knows? He’s Liam, he’ll handle himself.” I purse my lips playfully with Sean, and he cracks a smile.

That's just Liam. If you’re gonna depend on a person, he’s the guy to depend on. Maybe sometimes people are too dependent on him, though.

Going out almost burned my skin. It may be September, but August weather was still here lingering. Combining the two months, you’ve got leaves falling down with a hot, refreshing wind that'll blow the school flag away if they didn't fix the ring holding the flag up soon.

We sit on the bleachers facing the senior football team when they begin to play a scrimmage against one another. Yellow against blue and we—Sean and I—both know it isn’t fair.

“Fucking Christian,” Sean spat his name. “On the same team as Ian, those twins over there, and Josh? Can you call this a fixed game or what?”

“Or what. Josh is good but not that good. He plays well when he’s with Wallis but he’s on yellow,” I explain.

Still, even when a good game of football is going on with the senior team, I still manage to be ask myself where Liam really is. And even Zayn—how odd when he’s the center of attention.

Liam's rarely late to anything, and the latest he's ever been is probably 10 minutes. It's been 40 minutes now, and Liam still hasn't shown up.

The scrimmage starts with a kick off and ends with yellow having the ball. In no time, their cocky attitudes get crushed by Christian being the striker of blue team. No aim whatsoever, but with his kick, it could have the way to the net cleared in a matter of milliseconds without anyone even trying to pursue him knowing there’s a likely chance Christian would end up kicking their shin where it’d turn blue in less than a minute. Even with shin pads, getting kicked by Christian would have you crying like a bitch on the floor.

Christian became highly known because he and Zayn always hung with each other last year. Somehow people say that Christian's only on the team because of Zayn. Even with his terrible aim but powerful offensive status, the coach wouldn't take him in with his impulsive decisions. Slowly, the both of them drifted apart to the point where they won’t even acknowledge each other anymore, not even on their birthdays or just passing by the hallway.

Speaking of football—Louis was one of the best players the school has. Or had. He took an injury that resulted in him not playing a whole year. Resulted with us losing the finals in fifth place. At our own school. How humiliating.

Another kick off, this time from the yellow alternative-goalie who’s Peter, who was the reason why the school hadn't really won any championships in the last three years. He holds the ball, drops it, and kicks it midair, his toe at an angle where the ball launches to drastic height and quickly speeds down to me and Sean.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” We yell while laughing at Peter.

“Aim better why don’t you!” Sean yells while the ball drops onto his back, which ricochets off his bag, slowly rolling towards him.

“Fuck off Sean, you’re shit!” Christian shouts walking forward to the bleachers, beckoning for the ball.

“I’m shit?” He exclaims, “I’m shit? Shit on this, stupid pussy fuck!”

Without hesitance, Sean sends the ball across the track, at the far right from the football team where below us, a number of the blue team members walk toward us, slowly starting to run.

“Damn it Sean, it’s the first day!” I yell while trying to balance on the bleachers I’m running on.“Fuck, fuck, fuck...” Panting to myself, I circle around to run back inside the dorm hall. I try and dig my keys out of my pocket, but have no luck. It's hard running across the whole field to the dorms when you haven’t ran a day in your life.

“Run Horan! If you fucking can, you’re dead!” Christian barked in the hallway, right behind me.

“I didn’t even do anything!” I huff. “It was Sean, you little bitch.” Reflecting to what I just said, I speed up and so does Christian.

Almost there, I tell myself. Ugh, my fucking knee!

“It wasn’t even me!” I wail in agony. Still there’s not a single sign of Christian slowing down.

Quickly, I turn into the hallway where my room is settled; only to find out I dropped my key on the way to my room...and Christian's holding on to it.

Christian’s not the muscle type, but he’s got power. Being temperamental, Christian usually began fights; six fights last year, two involving the police. Usually, if he’s not involved, he’d be the one instigating. On the account of his parents being infamously rich who donate about more than I'd ever will to the school, he’s given alot of special treatment from the headmaster and teachers. The chances of him being suspended or expelled—none.

I stop myself in hope that my door might open without the key for once.. Turns out, it’s a bad idea and Christian quickly grabs a hold of my shoulder with his right hand and pushes me down right onto the floor, head first.

Bam! I blink my eyes uncontrollably as my vision turns blurry. Christian's standing over me, but it looks like there's five of him.

“Ugh,” I groan sharply, squeezing my eyes shut. With my eyes still closed, I see all sorts of light patterns I can’t make out. “What the fuck was that for?”

“Where’s your friend, Sean?” He coos at me.

I wince, “How should I fucking know? You chased me here yourself."

“You know better Niall,” he quips at me. “You brought it upon yourself.”

“I didn’t bring anything!” I retort. “You brought yourself on me... Fuck my head!”

FUCK!

Out of nowhere, Christian decks my jaw. Clearly, not a word I've been screaming to him got into his head. It began to feel tingly and sore, epecislly where I.know the bruise is already forming.

“What are you fucking doing?” Zayn shouts, confused.

“Get off the fucking floor, would you?.” Zayn huffs, grabbing my shoulder before pulling me upright.

My squinting eyes see Christian giving a smug look and a laugh to Zayn. The tension between them results in silence.

Zayn’s eyes peek out in the hallway where a few have already taken notice of the scene. Chris has also turned his head to look, laughing before walking away giving a gesture back to Zayn with a sneer on his face. Zayn grimaces, and I can’t tell whether he’s ready to blow or not. He keeps collected, pulls me by the collar inside the room while shutting the door.

Hurriedly, I rip my bag off in anger while my fingers go over the sensitive red spot Christian marked on my jaw. I guess I shouldn’t have taken it all as a joke. I lie on my bed while facing away from Zayn, hoping that his head doesn’t come up with ways to torture me with this sucker on my face. I can feel my temples pounding from the impact of my head hitting the floor.

I don’t know what got over him, it’s the first time I’ve ever actually pissed Christian off and I usually tend to avoid conflicts. My injuries are nothing compared to anyone Christian’s gone and fucked up. And I should be thankful he didn’t do anything else. He might’ve, if Zayn hadn’t intercepted.

I shouldn’t say intercept because it sounds like he was actually defending me. It’s just his personal vendetta against Christian that had gotten over him.

Overall, I guess I can thank Zayn. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably have a broken rib with both of my arms broken and with the other eye fucked up too. Just personal vendetta though, nothing more.

A whistle from Zayn gets me sitting up with my eyebrows contracting. “What do you fucking want?” I blurt out. I realize this is Zayn I’m talking to.

His head turns back towards me with a coy smile. Turning his body, he throws a wet cloth that lands in front of me.

“I didn’t ask for your help alright,” I mumble.

“Don’t be a dick,” Zayn scoffs. "Just take the thing and dab it over."

“Shut up,” I blurt out.

“Excuse me?” He laughs half-heartedly.

“Nothing,” I mutter. “I’m going to the nurse’s office,”

On my way, I ask myself why I said those things to Zayn. He didn't do anything, so why am I starting to have my own personal vendetta against him?

It wasn’t until I saw Liam in the nurse’s office too with a bloody lip and nose, I forgot about my sudden anger towards Zayn.

“Who did that?” I ask, pointing to his lip.

He rubs his lips, “Can’t say—I shouldn’t.”

“Is it that serious?” I scoff.

“You shouldn’t joke Niall,” he says. “You’re the reason why I’m here in the first place,”

“That’s not good.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can't say anything about Zayn. He’s the only one I don't understand. We talk at times but it's growing on. Sometimes he's happy, and then within seconds he's not. We talk about lots of things, things I don't usually talk about, and it's like we've got little secrets between us.
> 
> I like it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Chapter 5. Sighhhh, sorry took me long to update. I have a procrastination problem and also I just wanted to write this heated make out part. I'm not good but whatever. Thank you to my Beta, Inayah, hellooooooo

Liam and I spend our whole day in the office to avoid any other conflicts. We ice our bruises and stay quiet, the ceiling fan making the only noise in the room.

Neither of us talk, but I tried. I didn't know where to start, though. I kept trying to ask Liam what I'd done, but every time I'd ask a question he'd get up and talk to the nurse.

Three hours later and still no conversation. I decide to get up and leave, seeing that Liam wasn't going to he talking. I go to my room and lock the door, shutting the rest of the world out.

Zayn's in the room too, working on some journalism assignment. I don't say anything, not wanting to distract him from his work.

Zayn doesn't talk until evening, and that's just to ask what music he should play. I choose his fratrap playlist, wanting to feel better about my bruises. I start an assignment, but get up to take a shower instead.

I get back from showering and Zayn's asleep, surprisingly. I'd thought he'd be the type to throw ridiculous parties all the time, but he's not. He doesn't draw any extra attention from anyone—except me.  
The next day's nothing but trouble. Constant stares in the hallway at my bruised face, with the rumour spreading like a wild fire between everyone about Christian and Zayn and wait, who’s the new guy? Me. Rumors never went around about me until today. One I couldn’t even believe; Christian and Zayn are back to friends and decided to show everyone by beating me up to prove they’re together as ‘buds’ again.

No one bothers to ask me anything about it—probably only Christian.They know that one day he and Zayn would end up as friends again. But they're not. Except now, everyone thinks I’m vulnerable and easy to jump on at. And one of those people who've proved that is Dani.

“So did you cry?” She asks me in period two.

“No, what the fuck?” I retort. “Can you fucking leave? Don’t you understand I don’t like you?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. "But what are you gonna fucking do?"

I don't answer her, trying to show that she's of no interest to me.

Then the next few weeks go by but they feel like years, not weeks. I don't talk to anyone, and nobody talks to me. Not even Sean or Liam, who haven't explained why they cut me off. I stay in my room, go to the roof sometimes when I know nobody's there, but that's it.

I can't say anything about Zayn. He’s the only one I don't understand. We talk at times but it's growing on. Sometimes he's happy, and then within seconds he's not. We talk about lots of things, things I don't usually talk about, and it's like we've got little secrets between us.

I like it that way.

I try with Sean and Liam again, but it doesn't work.

I decide to call my mom more often. Somehow the sound her voice brings me back home to Ireland where I have nothing to deal with compared to when I’m here in London. And the odds are back in my favour for today when I hear her pick up.

“Mom!” I say with burgeoning excitement.

“How have you been, how’s school?” She smothers me with questions I can’t even answer.

“So far so good...” I say with a grimace she can't see. “Not good, but good.”

“Really?” She says curiously to me.

“Yeah, I can still cope.” I give her a timid answer.

“Keep coping lad, you’ll be home for Christmas soon.”

“I hope so.”

“H’ve you got new friends? How is Sean and that old roommate of yours?”

“I—I don’t talk to them anymore,” I mumble to her. “But I’ve got this new roommate and—“

She cuts in, “Hey—hey, I’ve got to go I’m so sorry, I’ll make it up to you somehow, I love you Niall.” Then the phone clicks.

“I love you too...” I say quietly through the dial tone.

Zayn and I keep to ourselves to do whatever; homework or nothing at all. In this case, nothing for me but something for Zayn that doesn’t involve homework. Usually, when I’m asleep or at least lying on the bed pretending I am, he comes in after curfew. I don’t know what but I guess it’s my chance to find out today. Sometimes he comes back mad so I have to stay up talking about something I don't quite get.

A loud knock on the door gets me to immediately jump out my bed. If anyone finds out Zayn’s gone and wandered past curfew, they’d have us sent home. They’re that strict on curfew rules on campus. Either you make it back on time, or stay out.

I open the door to an intensely drunk Zayn who’s got the heavy stench of whisky flowing right out of him, only to have him walk inside without having a sense of direction.

BAM!

He shuts the door loudly, probably waking up all the other boys on the floor. Zayn doesn't look like he cares as he's walking towards me..

“Z-Zayn, are you alright—” I ask him before his body slams mine into the study table. He places his frigid hands on my hips whilst playing with the band of my sweats, guiding me hastily onto table where I knock forward my sheets of unfinished homework.

I stammer questioningly while he smashes our bodies together, my back to him as he closes every space between us. I feel him breathing on my neck and the smell of whiskey on his breath.

“Zayn,” I insinuate shakily to him. "What are you—"

What’s going on with him? More importantly, why do I like the way he’s pressing onto me right now? I'd always thought Zayn was an asshole until I got to know him and was proved wrong. I thought he was straight too, only to he proves wrong again. It's because he's drunk that he's doing this, and that's it. Zayn is straight. Right?

“Shh,” he hushes me, causing the hairs on my neck to stand. Suddenly, the hairs on my arms begin to stand too. “Let’s have fun for a while.” He says coyly.

“N-no Zayn. I-I need to sleep,” I stutter softly with my arms holding me up against the table. I feel his moist lips and warm mouth trail around my neck where I moan accidentally as he presses his lips to my jaw.

Where the hell did that come out of?

His cold, soft fingers trail my hip bone, then gently go up my side, which stares tingling. I elbow his hand away before I can moan again.

I dig my nails in the table, taking a sharp inhale as Zayn’s teeth softly graze below my ear and down to the curve of my neck to my shoulders. Slowly, he kisses below the corner of my jaw again. He introduces his tongue to my skin and presses firmly on the spot he’s been working on. Gently, he begins to suck softly and only then a few seconds after, he begins to suck harder with him nibbling inbetween, showing no sign of quitting or slowing his mouth down.

“Z-Zayn, I can't—” I moan quietly, only to have him lick the spot up then back down and brush his lip against it.

He stops after a minute of begging on my part,but only to turn me around and press his lips on mine. I let him slip his tongue in ,our tongues lacing in my mouth, giving me a taste of what he indulged in earlier.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks lowly with a sneer, moonlight shining on half his face, making him more intimidating. I can feel my arms that are holding me up getting weak—not weak enough to lift myself and run man hands through my hair, though. .

“N-no,” I fucking beg on his mouth. “Don’t.”

You mean yes, you son of a bitch! A little voice inside my head shouts.

Too fucking late.

“Thought so,” he says, nibbling on my lips before gently kissing them.

He hoists me up the table, lips intact; he puts his body between my legs before I pull him in tightly and lock my legs aroung him. My mind’s going blank, my body doing everything itself. I remember he’s drunk and my legs loosen around him. His lips pull away just to brush against mine, and we breathe each other in. He gives me a look of confusion and cheerlessness that stabs deep inside me.

The long eye contact gets me to change my mind about letting go in the first place. I pull him back in again. My arm laces around his neck while my other hand occupies itself holding his perfect jaws. I let go, sliding my hand under his thin cotton shirt. He grabs both of my hands before he decides to pull the top over his neck himself. Chills go through me—seeing how I can have mouth farther down his body, have my hands run down his sides without having to feel folded lines of a t-shirt.

My mouth sucks on the spot just below his jaw line well enough that Zayn’s nails dig into my skin on my back behind my ribs, his throat croaking out a sharp moan, exhaling a puff of air past my neck before I close my lips on his neck, the lining of his jaw, his cheek and back to his lips where we begin to go at it again.

It's 2AM and I'm tired, but I decide to harvest my energy and keep going at it with Zayn.

Zayn quickly transitions into doing something different, less rough. Shy and hesitant, his lips try to slip between my bottom lip but he pulls away. To build his confidence, I put my lips in his. He begins to suck gently, sending pleasure down my spine. His tongue enters again—both of our tongues rub onto one another as we both let it out. Going back in, my lips slightly brush onto Zayn’s, making him pull away with his head tilted and his eyes away from me. Qll over again, I question both of our intentions as to why we’re doing this late at night, why we’re doing this in the first place when we barely know each other.

I look into his veiled eyes which show me nothing but anguish. My legs finally decide to let go of holding Zayn, and my fingers loosen their grip too as his arms reach around my back, his face buried in the crook of my shoulder.

I decide to save my questions for another day. I carefully stray away from Zayn, whose arms are still around me, and hold him by his shoulder to walk him over to his bed. I sit him down first, and then slowly set him on his back. Already, he’s knocked out. There’s a part of me that’s laughing, the other part disappointed. I don’t know if I was interested in going any further but if we were to, I wouldn't have stopped.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly in a joyless tone, my head turning back at his voice.

“For what?” I ask in a mal-curious tone as I shove myself back into my cold bed.

“Y‘ll ... See.” He slurs.

I don't question him, knowing that whatever he's sorry for already happened and I'm really oblivious, or that I just don't care.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm a bad author for not updating frequently but i actually dont know who's reading except one person so thanks (: and sorry for slow updates. I do have all the chapters finished but there's the editing and rereading and i end up finding out its stupider than i expected so i gotta rewrite and such.. ok. i gotta apologize for the messed up information, like ages and years. There's so much for me to be keeping up and im sorry, i will edit previous chapters for it to make sense if u like that. Thanks to my beta again and the 300+ reads i have.
> 
> This is Chapter 5 (:

As soon as I wake up, the first thing on my mind’s the last thing I thought about. My eyes threaten to close, but I force myself out of bed to avoid Zayn. His bed is empty, but looks like he just went out considering the odor of his cigarettes still lingering in the room.

 

The door knob clicks and I feel myself jump out of my skin.

 

Not now... At least not yet.

 

“Hey,” Zayn’s friend, Harry, greets me and I suddenly calm down. “Niall, right?”

“Yeah, erm...” I murmur, casually pretending everything’s fine. “Where’s Zayn?”

“I don’t have an idea,” he shrugs. “I thought he’d be here.”

“Might’ve gone for a walk...”

“He would’ve told me, or Louis.”

“He might want to be alone,” I say.

Harry looks at me curiously, “Well, just tell him if he comes back that I’m looking for him.”

“Okay, okay.” I sigh.

Harry leaves and I’m once again full of stress. Things may not be as stressful as they seem, but then again, it's Zayn I'm stressing over.

To make matters worse, I realize that I've got a book report due, and I haven't read any books. I go to the library—still in my pajamas.  
The librarian is scowling at me as I walk in—I'm not exactly her favorite student. I got banned from the library in grade ten, got the ban lifted in grade eleven. Then, I got suspended, confined to the library for three days, but didn't bother showing up.

Out of nowhere, I notice Liam. He notices me too, shifting awkwardly on his seat then focuses back on his novel—Boy With the Striped Pyjamas. His bruises are gone but still there’s worry and distress in his eyes.

I pretend to look for a book when I’m really looking for a way to approach him without him leaving. He continues to read his novel and I sneak behind him. Frightened, he jumps out his chair to leave but I press on his shoulders to sit him down.

“I—I can’t talk right now,” He stammers, closing his book.

“Can you just shut up for one second?” I snap. “All I want to do is just chat. I'm not going to kill you."

“Okay! Okay... What’s up?” He says ill-confidently.

“Why’d you stop talking to me?”

“I—I just did! Do I have to have a reason to stop?”

“Shh!” The librarian hushes us from her desk, glaring at me. Of course, it's my fault.

“What is it Liam?” I continued, “Why’d you stop?”

“I don’t like you.” he spits out.

“We were fine that morning!” I hiss. “Fine, don’t tell me. Fuck you Liam, and tell Sean to fuck himself too.”

I leave the library empty-handed, angry and confused at Liam. To make things worse, I hear my name over he intercom.

“Niall Horan, please present yourself at the office,” the secretary says twice.

I head to the office, and people stare at me, giggling over the fact that I'm probably in trouble with the headmaster.

 

“You called, ma’am?” I say plainly. I gotta pull this fake talk with some of the teachers here. They expect the polite and posh speech whenever you come by with them.

“There’s a new student here, show her around please.”

She gestures to a girl with long, dark, wavy hair. Darker than black itself. Her hazel coloured eyes are looking around the office, not focused on anything exact. She's got freckles going from cheek to cheek that you couldn't even count. I've got some too—not as many as she does, though.

 

“But why—“I exclaim.

“Hey! I know its Saturday and you boys have your parties or who knows what, but you can do all that nonsense right after you show her a tour.”

“Why me?” I ask shakily in annoyance.

“I’m updating your file and she came along while your name was on my screen. Who better to someone give a tour than you, right?” She laughs. “And, don’t give me any lip Mr. Horan, I have all the control over your file and I can put something in there to get you expelled.”

 

This fucking school is ridiculous.

 

“Alright, the name’s Niall. Please don’t ask questions until the end,” I sigh despondently to the girl.

Instead of following behind me, she laughs. I can tell already, I might not like her.

“Is this a protocol of a tour guide or what?” She continued to laugh.

“No! I just don’t want to be stopped constantly about stupid shit like ‘where’s the girl’s washroom, are we allowed in the guys dorm?’” I mock her.

"You talk a lot of shit." She says smugly.

 “Whatever your name is, I don’t care. Let’s go,”

“It’s Rey.”

She keeps quiet through half the tour, which makes me feel bad because I feel like I don’t know better. My day’s ruined with the secretary being a dick, Liam being another dick and me being a dick about the whole thing with Zayn who I haven't seen at all. I think Rey knows I don’t mean anything I’ve said to her when she asks:

 

“Are you having a bad day?”

“Why do you ask?” I grumble.

“It seems like you are, are you?”

“No, I’m just an asshole.”

“I’m not stupid you know. I—I have like this weird power—“

“Power?”

“Not power, but like, sense of knowing if people are showing their true feelings or not. I'm not a fucking alien."

I cough up a laugh. “So you can read people?” I ask.

“Yeah, and I can tell you’re not as fine as you say you are.” She explains.

I look at her quizzically then back to the empty hallway where it seems like no one’s spending their time at school except me. “Good job, when you figure out what's wrong with me—tell me.”

She blurts out, “You’re the first friend I’ve made here; am I allowed to call you a friend?"

Then again I shoot her a quizzical expression which made us both stop walking. “Call it what you will but just after a week, you won’t be calling me that.”

She inquires, “Why?”

“Why everyone has, by the second day.” I tell her.

She shrugs with her lips tightly closed. “There’s a difference between them and those who still talk to you.”

“What’s that?”

"Are you that oblivious?"

"Yeah, I'm dumb."

I spend the whole day in school, no new intentions of leaving even after finishing the tour. I spend a part of it with Rey, who I offer my help to settle in her dorm with Arie, who's also there bothering me about Zayn and what he likes in a girl. As entertainment, I tell her he likes it when girls give him weed. She gets confused, but sets out to look for some. I can definitely expect some spliffs by the weekend. It's been a long time since I've smoked one, the last time being with Zayn. I've got no idea where he gets his from, and I'm in no interest to ask.

It’s not easy looking for anything in this town. No one likes the kids that go to the boarding school anyway. But supplying yourself with alcohol’s not half as hard as it is with weed. The convenience store closest to the campus is 10 minutes walking distance. Most people have someone buy it for them, but it's not great beer. The best it gets is lukewarm Alexander Keith’s. In summer, it's like warm piss.

I leave Rey to make friends in her dorm so I can get back to mine. I stop at the corner before my room after I see Zayn with a green flannel on that looks like someone was trying to rip it off. He's got sweat on his cheeks and his knuckles are bruised. He looks tired, but still pounds on the door hard enough to feel the walls vibrate.

 

And after trying to avoid him all day; I slowly build the courage to go up to him.

It can't hurt.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not once has anyone asked me how I'm doing? Everyone always assumes I'm fine."
> 
> "Are you?"
> 
> "No! I don't know... Maybe we actually shouldn't talk about anything."
> 
> "You know we very well should."
> 
> "... I'm gonna go."
> 
> "Should I be worried?"
> 
> "Why should you be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day. Trying to make up for lost time. Heh. Tell me if you see something fucked up, im literally stressing over this ok. Thanks for everything from everyone !
> 
> Chapter 6, not 7 like the index says

Head down, I nibble on the inside of my cheek as I try to avoid any eye contact between us. As I stand there digging for my keys inside my pocket, I sense him eyeing me from behind.

"Would you fucking hurry up?" He moves away from the wall and starts pacing with his fists clenched.

"Can you fucking hold on? I'm trying to get my keys." It looks like a bad day to be wearing jeans. More like it, a bad idea to be putting things inside your front pocket.

Normally, he'd ask if it was a smart idea to be talking shit to him or not, but today, he ignores my remark. I'm guessing that whatever happened to him really did fuck his day up.

I get the key into the keyhole. As soon as I turn the knob, Zayn pushes me aside and goes inside.

"An 'excuse me' would've worked too," I say jokingly, but Zayn glares at me in a manner that says he's about ready to kill me.

"Don't _fuck_ with me Niall, not now." He stumbles over his words. I've never seen him so mad, and when he takes off his flannel, his white tee is covered in blood.

I ask myself if it'd be okay to ask him what's wrong or to leave it be. Seeing his mood, I don't know if he wants to relive it all again. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No! Just n-no, it's fine." He stammers, scratching his head. His eyebrows furrow in stress.

"I think I should." I go to leave the room.

"Fuck," he swears, stopping me as I'm leaving. He sits on his bed with his face buried in his hands.

I decide to ignore last night and focus on this because frankly, I couldn't care less about what happened between us—whatever it was.

Zayn sighs deeply, "You know..."

I lift my head to see him wipe his cheek with his palm.

"Not once has anyone asked me how I'm doing?" He scoffs halfheartedly. "Everyone always assumes I'm fine."

"Are you?" I say. Stupid of me to ask, but I guess he knows this is my way of trying to get it out of him.

"No!" He groans. "I don't know... Maybe we actually shouldn't talk about anything."

"You know we very well should."

He looks at me as if I've offended him, then I realize it sounds like I'm about to talk about the moment we had last night but he shakes his head, "I'm gonna go."

"Should I be worried?"

"Why should you be?" He says in a rough one, slamming the door behind him.

I sit angrily on my bed, wondering what the fuck he means by 'why should you be?'

I've known him long enough to be considered a friend. Well, at least I think I have.

I decide to take Rey out to the wharf beside the beach this night; just about a five minute walk from school campus. The campus is basically the whole town, so we can go to any stores without a hassle. But of course, you need consent to leave the property. The city's just an hour away, but I can't find it in myself to go there.

Zayn's taking up my mind, filling my thoughts and emotions. No matter how hard I try t o get him out of my head, he finds a way to force himself back in. 

 

Rey's my escape from my own mind right now. Although, it's not working as well as I thought because I'm still thinking about Zayn. I decide to show her a few places off of school grounds to distract myself.

"They do some bonfires over there—" I point pass the parked boats to the beach. "Every Friday or Saturday night, depending on the weather or plans, y'know.”

"You guys are allowed to do this?" She asks amusingly.

I nod, "But I stopped going,"

"Why?"

"Don't want to be around people," I shrug.

"C'mon, it'll probably the last one of the year before they can do this again next summer," she attempts to persuade me, kicking her foot off the boardwalk playfully.

"Good, it's like a hipster fest that needs to be stopped." I scoff.

"I've never been to a bonfire," she claims.

"It's like a giant campfire!" I exclaim. "Haven't you gone camping? It's just a bigger fire..."

"I had the opportunity but my parents were too protective and they never let me hang out much. Anyway, please, Niall?”

I break easily, only because I need to stay out of my dorm long enough for me to want to actually go back there, ready to sleep without problems. Maybe today's the day I get some sleep. I really hope it is.

At the bonfire, there are a lot of people I don't like, people I don't talk to, people I don't recognize, and people that don't like me. It was all a put-off balance with flames and bad indie music. At least there were drinks, illegally brought from the city liquor store.

All eyes were on us—actually, on Rey, who's obliviously taken the attention of a few, including someone here who's making me want to turn around and back to my room. But I don't; I stay with Rey, who's all fascinated by the gathering.

"This is sick!" She squeals happily while pinching my arm with her long nails, her thumb pressing down really hard.

"Hey!" I take a step away, "Can we go? Are you finished? I think you're finished."

"We just got here," she looks at me like I'm the stupidest human being ever to live.

 

"Yeah," a familiar voice says. "Stay and loosen up why don't you?"

"I guess you're feeling better Zayn?" I say monotone.

"Much better," he grins.

His bruises are cleaned up, but still visible enough to make out that he got a good whack in the face. Only from the flame's light, can I wounds from his upper lip to under his bottom lip.

Too worried to ask, Rey does. "What happened there?" Gesturing with her chin to his face.

"A little fight between my little brother when I went home today. The sucker punched so hard, he busted my lip open," he shrugs.

Yeah, like a little kid would give you a minor bruised eye and turn half your face into a bloody, wet mess. Nobody notices what a mess his face actually was, probably because it was too dark. 

Zayn already reeks of beer, cigarettes, and his Georgio Armani spray. 

"If teachers know you guys do this, do they know you guys drink and smoke and... stuff?" Rey asks.

"Some are even here. We say it's for charity." I shrug.

"And they believe you guys?" She scoffs.

"It's not a trick," I tell her. "We actually do it for charity. They take the money made from the bonfire and donate it. You would be surprised how much we make."

"I'm beginning to like this school," she nods her head.

"You won't be saying that after three days."

The night is slow, and Rey's on her second cup of beer, playing 'truth or dare' black jack. I sit away from everyone else, going through my phone and deciding whether to call my mom now or later. She usually sleeps early, so I call her right then.

"Mum?" I say questionably as the music pounds through my ear drums.

"Hi lad."

"How's your night going?"

"Rather boring now that I'm thinking about it," she chuckles. "Just asking; you got your allowance for this month right?"

I nod unconsciously, "yes."

"How have you been spending that?"

"You know, been using it to fund for the meth lab my roommate's starting over here."

"Very funny, Niall," she says in a monotone. "Which reminds me from a while back, you were telling me about your friends?"

"They're all fucked. I won't bother with them if they don't want to talk to me."

"Well, how about that roommate?"

"Yeah, I don't know if he counts. He's just my roommate."

"Well, considering you're funding his meth lab, you guys must be friends."

"Sure. He's alright, I guess."

I could spend hours talking to my mom about anything and it wouldn't even turn bad. I wish she lived closer so I could go see her whenever I wanted. Being honest, if she did live closer, I'd go see her every weekend. But, she doesn't. So I've gotta fly out to see her when I want to, and plane tickets are expensive. 

"Before I go," I hear through the line, "You figure out your problems with your friends, Niall. No matter what. And hold onto the ones you have, for your goddamned life."

"I tried!" I tell her. Even though it surprises me to hear her talking about this, I go with it.

"Try harder. There are some you can break when you put a little more effort." She's started with her lecturing tone that all mums seem to have.

"Fuck effort." I hiss.

"No, listen! Your friends are lucky to have someone like you. Sometimes, friends are the only people keeping each other sane. They need you, whether or not they tell you that.. And if they tell you they don't need you, that's when they need you the most so you've got to make the effort to push back, alright?"

"Well hello Dr. Phil, what'd you do to my mom?"

"Listen. I know I haven't been myself lately and I'm trying to make it up to you. I haven't been listening when I should have. And here I am... leaving again."

"It's fine, really. I'll bear it in mind mum. I love ya."

"I really am sorry Niall. I love you too." 

I feel the need to stay where I am instead of going back to Rey and the bonfire idiots who seem to enjoy each others company. I sit on the moist dirt that I know will leave dirty residue on my arse, but I can't actually bring myself to care enough about dirt on black jeans.

"What are you doing here?" Zayn asks. My feet kick in fright and I can hear him laughing. He's meters away with a smoke, looking far off to the lake we were sitting at the edge of. It looks like he's been standing there for a while, and here I was thinking that the smell of ashes was coming from somewhere else.

"I was talking to my mum," I tell him. Zayn must've heard what I said about funding his meth lab. Oh, shoot. "Why are you here?"

"Dunno." He shrugs. "Trying to sober myself up."

"How many have you drank tonight?" Considering he has been drunk before, I wanna know his limits.

"Four? And I'm making my way down to my third water bottle." He winces. "I gotta fucking piss."

"Don't wet your bed tonight." I felt the need to say this, although I don't know why.

"Niall!" He scoffs and I seen a grin forming.

"I'm sorry." I laugh halfheartedly.

"Well, you must love your mom a lot for you to be calling her almost every night," he blurts, changing the topic.

"Yeah, she's my mom. Of course! You don't?" I exclaim.

He makes a pained expression before wiping it off to a sullen one, "I can't."

I look behind my shoulder, back at the fire. I push myself up to sit beside him, to only get a soft grin from him. He quickly ashes his cigarette on the dirt and throws it into the water before coming over.

"You're polluting the water," I tell him.

"I can honestly not give a fuck." He shrugs while shaking his head.

"You make the earth such a better place." I say sarcastically. I lie down before continuing. "So what do you mean you can't?"

"I can't talk to my mom like you." He explains.

"Why not?"

"It's the reason why I came back here beat up, Niall. My dad doesn't like me."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"I would never." He says with a pained expression. "Today was my sister's birthday. The least I can do after being kicked out the house is to come home and greet her when I don't see her until summer."

Kicked out the house? And I thought I had it hard.

"Not even for Christmas?"

"Not even for Christmas."

"How come you're not allowed home?"

"I don't even know myself. My dad just started drifting away from me then the day I turned 13, I learned they were going to put me into a boarding school."

"They didn't even tell you why?"

"No. I thought it was cool at first to be going here where they didn't have to bother me about homework or babysitting. Then when I called home after a month after moving in, they never answered. I called for three months before realizing they didn't want anything to do with me. At least that's what my dad wanted. My mom writes me letters sometimes talking about how she and my sisters miss me. And she hasn't even written since January."

I bury my face between my knees that are pulled in to my chin. This is why I don't like talking with people about things like this.

"Are you okay? What are you doing?" He asks.

"Nothing. I—I got nothing.... I'm sorry Zayn, I don't know what to say."

"Don't beat yourself up because of my dad." He tells me.

"No it's not because of your dad. I can't help you, Zayn and I feel like shit that I can't when there's at least one thing I can do to help but I don't even know what it is."

"Sure you can't do anything to help bring things back together like they were before, but at least you're here to listen."

"Somehow, I can't help feel but even worse." I run my hand on my face.

"Try not to." He insinuates with a smirk as he moves slowly closer, his eyes fixed on my lips while I watch his tongue peek out as he bites his lip.

Oh no, not again.

"Yeah, you're drunk." I inch my head back before he pulls his back to an expression of petulance.

"I'm pretty good actually," he says. "How about you?"

"Yeah—no! I'm great," I say nervously. As much as I want it all to happen, I don't want to disappoint someone so intimidating.

"I'm positive that you are," he says with a wry expression. "By the way, good job the other night. Really left a mark on my fucking neck."

Recalling what he means by that, I look at his neck where I left a trail of bruises, surprised he still remembers.

"Oh, you too," I stammer as I grin, showing him my bruises.

He looks at me leeringly, "Yeah, I remember. Really, good job."

I shake my head, "If it was such a good job, why'd you fucking sleep so goddamn early?"

"You aren't ready," he says coyly. He stands up before pulling me up and I stare at him madly at the idea of not being 'ready'.

"What does that mean?" I exclaim angrily.

"You aren't ready. Am I speaking in another language or what?"

"Go fuck yourself," I hiss at him as he throws his arm over my shoulder.

"Probably better than you ever will," he whispers in my ear, making the hairs on my arms to stand up.

"I hate you," I shake my head, brushing his arm off but he insists his arm stays on.

"No you don't. So, I'll see you later?"

"For fucking what?"

"You are going to show me how ready you are Niall. And you're not going to hold back."

"Tease me all you want," I scoff. "But I'm staying here."

"At first you wanted to leave, now you don't?"

"I can change my mind, can't I?" I protest.

"But do you really want to?" He turns his head to me and I can see the warmth in his eyes—and it's notf from the fire.

I can feel the blood rushing around my cheeks, and Zayn takes a notice too; his lips separating, opening into a smile. And I'm caught in a trap.

Getting out of the trance, I push him away from me, "I said no, Zayn."

"Tell that to your dick." He laughs, pinching my nipple before leaving to join his friends back at the fire. And so fast, it seems like Zayn forgot the serious things we just talked about.

 

I stand quietly, ignoring everything around me but the fire that's dying down, ignoring everything but what's in my mind. How can someone brush off something so sullen, so important? Zayn does it, and it's not right. To me it's not. To hold something back for so long, it ruins you. It turns you into something new that you end up killing what once was, replacing it with what is. And in no time, what once was will come back, only to haunt you. Realizing then, I've destroyed myself. Bringing nothing but this misery to be haunted by the happiness I wish to have.


End file.
